


if ever i try to push away, you can just keep me there

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Buried Alive, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Nightmares, Snakes, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: John suffers a nightmare for the first time since he and Harold got together.(please read the tags)





	if ever i try to push away, you can just keep me there

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from anonymous: "Go back to sleep."
> 
> Title from Chvrches - [Clearest Blue lyrics](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/chvrches/clearestblue.html)

John is being buried alive. His hands are tied beneath his back and he tries to free them, but there are snakes with him in the coffin and the more he struggles, the more they hiss and slither around him. In the darkness, there’s no way to know how close they are to sinking their fangs into his flesh. Speeding up the process of killing him which lack of oxygen would soon complete.

He’s not trapped under the ground for long. Above his body, floating outside of his own head, he suddenly looks down on the place where he is trapped and sees Harold standing by the grave, flowers in one hand and cane in the other. In his grief, Harold slowly sinks to his knees by the unmarked headstone, and in the long grass nearby an escaped reptile advances.

John comes back to consciousness yelling, trying to warn him.

For a moment, the arm affectionately draped over his torso is another strangling scaly body, and John wrenches it away, scrambling out of bed.

Harold wakes and switches on the light. “John?” He enquires, blinking sleepily.

John stares down at him, breathing hard. Back in his body, on solid ground, with plenty of air. But then something twitches under the covers. In reality, it’s probably Harold’s foot, but John tears the bed apart anyway, investigating every fold of fabric for creeping danger.

It’s not one of his prouder moments.

He finally sinks onto the end of the bed, head in his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. “Bad dream.” He croaks.

Harold comes to stand nearby, squeezes John’s shoulder. “I’ll get you some water.” The sound of his voice is soothing. He leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a full glass. John drinks it shakily, while Harold picks up some of the pillows scattered on the floor. Ashamed, John’s shoulders hunch.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Harold asks carefully, sitting close beside him.

John shakes his head. “Not really.” He tips his upper body sideways and hides his face against Harold’s chest. Harold murmurs and strokes his hair. He smells good. Warm and dry, nothing like damp soil and fear. Every touch of his hands brings John closer to feeling alright.

He’s had much worse nightmares than this, about real events, real tortures. This is just the first time he’s had one - something so ridiculous - since they started sleeping together. And despite the comforting presence, he’s not sure he wouldn’t rather be alone. For the sake of saving his own embarrassment, sure, but more for Harold’s comfort. It’s not fair that he gets woken up for this.

John makes himself retreat from Harold’s embrace. He should have known better. He doesn’t get to share a bed with another person. That’s not something he’s capable of doing. Not anymore.

Still clutching the glass, he grabs a pillow from the pile Harold neatly made in the middle of the bed. “Sorry, Harold. I’ll take the couch. You should go back to sleep.”

He steps away, heading for the other room, but Harold catches his wrist. “Nonsense. You’ll stay with me.” He tugs the pillow from under John’s arm and tosses it away, up the bed. He links their fingers. “I’ll only worry about you more if you’re out there.”

John swallows. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. His heart flickers with tender, cautious warmth. “You need your sleep. I ruined your night.”

Harold scowls. “And how much sleep do you imagine I get without you?” He checks his watch. “I’d probably still be working, about this time.”

John manages a faint smile. A few hours earlier, he had physically dragged Harold away from typing at his laptop, getting a hold of the back of his chair and wheeling it away. Harold had squawked and protested, but then he’d saved what he was doing and let John lead him into the bedroom.

Harold presses John’s hand with both of his. “Please, stay?”

John nods. “Okay.” He puts down his empty glass and helps Harold remake the bed. He tries not to think about what the dream means. He can’t live long protecting Harold, and he can’t die because he’ll leave Harold unprotected. It’s a trap of his own making.

Harold kisses him after they’ve settled back in. Lying on their sides, facing each other. “Night terrors are a very small price to pay for the joy of your company, Mr. Reese.”

John laughs, half in disbelief. “The joy of my company, huh? I’ll remind you you said that, the next time you’re angry with me.”

“Hmm. Ms Shaw would describe you less charitably, but then she’s not in love with you.” Harold remarks, matter-of-factly.

John squirms. It’s not the first time Harold has said that, yet it’s still more than enough to make him tingle all over. “Harold, stop. You don’t have to keep making me feel better, I’m okay now.”

“Are you sure?” Harold’s voice goes high and tight, worry still so close to the surface.

John kisses him deeply, passionately. Presses up against him, seeking all the contact he can get. _Thank you for not making me explain,_ he wants to say. _Thank you for making sure I don’t run away and hide. Thank you for…everything, always._


End file.
